


These Messages Will Guide Us Through The Storm.

by hogwartsjaguar



Series: Out Of All The Numbers In The World [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Anxiety, Coming Out, Depression, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Poverty, Teenlock, Texting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-12-07 09:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11620419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwartsjaguar/pseuds/hogwartsjaguar
Summary: Greg Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes come from different worlds, a text message sent to the wrong number brings them together. Little do they know that the messages that they will send to another will impact their lives more than they could ever imagine.Sequal to Out Of All The Numbers In The World.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I was writing Out Of All The Numbers In The World, I started to get thoughts that the messages had greater importance to the two main characters and that they were being used as a coping mechanism for what was going on in their lives, and that they had been something for them to hold onto during the storm. 
> 
> There is going to be angst and chapters will be trigger warned when appropriate.

 

**Saturday 14th August 2010.**

  


**Saturday**

_Mycroft_

 

_Of course, the person who was texting him was called something as common as ‘Greg.’ Greg seemed like an idiot and he must not have had too much going on with his life if he was insistent on texting him. Nobody texted him. People, if they wanted to get into contact with him, would always call or they would email him. He hated text messages, he disliked the way that they had encouraged poor spelling and the use of smiley faces. Greg seemed like the idiot who would use smiley faces in his text messages. Greg was the idiot who was insistently on texting him despite the fact that he had called him a ‘prick’  and  Mycroft had called him a poodle while also insulting his IQ._

 

_The text messages had been a source of annoyance to him, however, for some strange reason, Mycroft kept replying back to him. The text messages had been a curiosity for him and he struggled to deduce why Greg kept texting him apart from the obvious fact that Greg was probably lonely and had nothing better to do with himself.  The messages had made a welcome distraction from his paperwork that he had taken home from the office and from Sherlock, who had waltzed into his flat with his rucksack and declared that he was spending the weekend at his flat after being in detention for an incident in the chemistry department._

 

_Mycroft sighed and rolled his eyes as he got another message from Greg, he replied to it regardless._

  


Greg

 

Greg wondered if Mycroft was even human. He seemed like a robot from the text messages that he had sent him. Mycroft didn’t seem like a very human name, perhaps it stood for something? He had no idea about why Mycroft was being so rude to him, it was only a text that was sent to a wrong number. Greg knew that he probably should have just apologised and stopped texting Mycroft when he realised that he was not texting his friend, however, he kept sending more messages. He knew that he was probably bothering Mycroft and he knew that Mycroft didn’t like his efforts for conversations judging by the fact that he had his intelligence insulted several times through text message. Despite this, Greg could not stop and he kept sending more and more messages. It was Mycroft’s fault, Mycroft had kept replying.

 

Texting had been the only thing that had been keeping him sane that night. His dad had been drinking, he always seemed to drink these days. Greg blamed the recession a few years ago for his dad being the way that he was, being laid off from the garage and it was difficult for him to get another job due to his age and the lack of qualifications that he had. His mum took on two jobs to support the family,  and he himself managed to get a paper round on top of working in the local corner shop as well as going to school. He didn’t mind doing it, as long as it helped his family, he’d do anything for them. The night had been tense and he had been thankful for the distraction. His dad seemed worse than normal and his brother had been mysteriously not there for dinner. He hadn't seen his brother for a while, Kyle had been apparently going off for extra drama  rehearsals despite the fact that there was no show advertised in the local paper. He couldn't blame his brother for making excuses, Greg would not have visited but he had his mum to think of. He felt guilty for not visiting more, but he managed to ignore the feeling most of the time. He could hear his dad thumping around downstairs, he probably got barred from the pub again, a lot earlier than normal. He must have been in a really bad mood. 

Greg sighed as he started to read some notes that he managed to find on the internet.  His essay  was on the question of ‘Discuss with reference to the theory of ecology, the significance of offence area location to the study of criminality.’ His essay had been difficult for him to work on and he seemed to lose focus on the reading. The words seemed to blur and they didn’t even look like proper words after Greg had been staring at the page for ten minutes. He didn’t even have useful notes to help him. It was Anderson’s fault that he was in a situation where he was being insulted by Mycroft in the first place. Greg sent another text, smiling to himself as Mycroft was telling him to work on his essay. Greg typed out a reply before going downstairs to get his pudding. It was treacle sponge and custard, his favourite.

  


_Mycroft_

 

_‘Fuck my life, I can’t do this!’ Well, that is an interesting way to start a conversation. He had thought that Greg would have gotten fed up of talking to him. He was fully expecting it as he wasn’t that interesting and besides he had been less than pleasant to him. If he had met Greg in person, Greg would have walked away from him with a vague excuse._

 

_It was rather strange that someone was wanting to speak to him, no one really did. Anthea from the office seemed to be the only person who did enjoy speaking to him, she was probably the closest thing to a friend. He had Andrew, who seemed to enjoy talking to him or at least was very good at pretending to do so- no, he couldn’t think of him again. He wasn’t worth space in his head...not again, he learned the first time that it wasn’t worth it. Greg had even gotten to the point where he was talking about his girlfriend and was asking questions about his relationships. It was a curious thing, really. Why would Greg be willing to tell a complete stranger about his girlfriend.  He had no idea why Greg seemed annoyed when he was told that his girlfriend was cheating on him, he had only been going out with her for a few months, it wasn’t like a marriage. Divorces were messy. Four affairs that he had revealed, not a single person was happy. He was technically doing them a favour by telling them, it prevented them months of guessing themselves and looking for the signs of the affair such as the packet of Mentos in the car. Relationships were messy. He never saw the appeal in them.  He was only trying to be helpful, he wasn't expecting Greg to be annoyed._

 

_Greg_

 

He wondered what he had done to deserve a message like this. He had wondered what he had done to deserve Kate screaming at him on a regular basis. He had only forgotten a three month anniversary, it wasn't like they were teenagers in their first relationship where things like this matter. He wasn’t aware of the fact that they had been together for three months, he didn’t even know that they were dating until Kate called him her boyfriend one day on Facebook. Things seemed to go downhill from that moment, and he put up with her behaviour as having a girlfriend got his parents off his back and the fact that she was good looking. He knew that he was shallow and that he didn’t even think with his head when it came to Kate.

 

Kate couldn’t be cheating on him. She was far too clingy and possessive to be doing that. What did Mycroft know anyway? He was just a person who was just wrong number on his phone that he had kept texting. He typed out the reply to Kate and he promised her that he would plan a special date for her when he came back to London on Monday. Perhaps he would get her flowers, she had always liked them.

 

Greg sighed as he realised that it was Sunday, he had so little time to get this essay done. He had only written one hundred and twenty-seven words, only one thousand, eight hundred and seventy-three until he was at the word count. He checked the time and realised that he had been talking to Mycroft for hours. Mycroft had been replying to him, unlike Kate who had ignored his messages and his attempt to call her. He sighed as he switched off his laptop, perhaps he would get more work done in the morning.

  


**Sunday**

  


_Mycroft._

 

_“Who keeps texting you?” Sherlock asked for the seventh time since last evening, he lit up one of Mycroft’s cigarettes and shoved it in between his lips._

 

_“No one,” Mycroft replied with a sigh. “The flat is non-smoking, it is illegal to smoke in here. Go and smoke outside.”_

 

_“Why would I want to do that?”Sherlock looked at him as if he was stupid, he took a few puffs of the cigarette before putting it out, using the skull that he had brought  over  from home to use as an ashtray. “So who keeps texting you?”_

 

_“Don’t you have more important things to be concerned about? This is your last year at school, Sherlock and you’ve not had the best record. This is the chance for you to have a new start and keep your head down instead of showing off and not even turning up to class. Your A-Levels are really important.”_

 

_“So that I might turn out like you? Can't think of anything worse.” Sherlock replied venom was dripping out his voice. “Who are you texting?”_

  


_“The girl from my work, we are discussing tasks we need to do to prepare for a conference. It really isn't of anything for you to be concerned with, ” Mycroft replied, hoping that it would be something to get Sherlock off his back. “It’s confidential.”_

 

_It seemed to get his brother off his back, Sherlock let out a sigh of annoyance before he stood up and started to play his violin in a huff. The sounds that he was making were screeching and reminiscent of nails on the chalkboard. Sherlock seemed to enjoy the reaction that he was pulling out of  him. Mycroft made an excuse about needing to fold his socks and left for his bedroom. He decided to put a password on his phone to prevent Sherlock's prying eyes from looking at his messages. He knew that Sherlock would be waiting for the moment that he left his phone unattended so he could pounce and read the messages. He could almost hear the insults and the snarky comments already. He wished that one day that his brother would have a single drop of respect for him. Wishing that pigs could fly was wish that would probably come true._

Sherlock

 

Mycroft had been texting someone and it had been a surprise, as when did his brother have friends? His brother had a secret and it was something that Sherlock was wanting to find out. He did enjoy finding out people’s secrets, they actually helped him to understand people more. He, of course, had his own skellingtons in the closet, but Mycroft out of all the people in the world having a secret was a new matter. Mycroft did nothing interesting with his life and he had no reasons to keep secrets. The most interesting secret Mycroft had ever had in his life was that he was a homosexual. It wasn't even a secret, it was clearly obvious and his closet was transparent. He had no idea why his parents were so surprised when they had found out. Perhaps they were only surprised as he had deduced it at the dinner table by his shoes and the aftershave. Mycroft had given him the silent treatment after that dinner. He didn't know why Mycroft was annoyed with him, it saved his incredibly lazy brother from coming out of the closet. Mycroft never appreciated his moments of kindness. 

He waited until Mycroft was asleep before going onto his phone, instead of trying to sneak a peak while Mycroft had gone for a shower. While there was some moral questioning about the situation, Sherlock didn’t care, Mycroft was in the wrong, he had lied to his face and it was his own fault for piping his curiosity. He could always tell when his brother was lying. He was the only person who could tell that Mycroft was, his brother had somehow managed to project honesty to everyone.  Mycroft’s phone password was predictable, the word ‘umbrella,’ was not a good password and it was obvious. Sherlock scanned through the messages and wondered who the hell ‘Greg,’ was and why was he interested in Mycroft. It was something that he had to do more research on. 

  
  


**Monday**

 

Greg  


Kate still hadn’t texted him back since last night after he wrote a long apology for forgetting their anniversary, she was probably still in the huff with him. He wondered how long it would last this time. The last time she was unhappy with him to the extent that she was given him the silent treatment, it was four days until she spoke to him again. He knew that he would have to make it up to her as he couldn’t be bothered dealing with one of her moods again, perhaps he would buy her flowers. He sighed as he began to look at pictures of flowers on his phone as the train began to leave the station. He had no idea about what flowers he was meant to get, flowers were just flowers to him. Mycroft probably knew about this, he seemed to be a pretty smart guy or he was a robot-Greg wasn’t too sure yet. Besides, if you couldn’t trust the stranger on your phone who else could you trust? There was no risk of Mycroft thinking that he was stupid for not knowing about flowers, Mycroft already thought that he was an idiot, so there was no risk of him looking stupid for asking.

 

Greg sighed as he rested his head against the window of the train and threw his phone at the empty seat that was across from him, he shouldn’t be doing this. He had been speaking to a stranger all weekend. Things like this were not normal, people didn’t do things like this and this is how people ended up getting murdered.  There was something thrilling about texting a stranger, Greg had soon discovered. Talking to the stranger on his phone had made his time at home even better and helped him to ignore his dad after he came home from the pub and ranted on about the Labour party. He had even started to wonder what Mycroft was like and what he looked like. It was probably not normal behaviour. He was only texting out him out of boredom and that was it, it was a way for him to put off writing his essay  What would he even get out of texting a stranger? His life was pretty good already, he was at uni, he had a great set of mates and he had a fit girlfriend, talking to a stranger wasn't going to bring him anything. The only reason why he had carried on talking, was the fact that even a prick like Mycroft needed someone to talk to and Greg was a nice guy to do that for him. He would stop texting him eventually.

 

His phone vibrated against the train seat, Greg didn’t think twice and he read the message and replied to Mycroft and began talking about the sandwich that he might have on the train. It was probably not normal behaviour, but at the moment, Greg didn’t care, it was a lot better than dealing with a moody girlfriend.  

  


_Mycroft_

_Sherlock had been looking at his phone, it did explain the fact that his brother had looked rather smug that morning when he did eventually saunter through to the kitchen for breakfast.  It was his own fault and he had no idea about why he was so surprised about Sherlock going through his phone- he knew that it was going to happen the moment that Sherlock had caught him texting. Mycroft sighed as he replied to the message that was sent to him, Greg was talking about egg and bacon sandwiches and getting flowers for his girlfriend, probably the most unimaginative way to start a conversation. Mycroft rolled his eyes before he began to type out a reply. He probably shouldn't  be doing something like this, but ti was nice that a stranger was wanting to get to know him and was insistent on talking to him as he was ignored most of the time. It was partly his own fault that he was ignored and he did enjoy not being bothered by people, but he did appreciate conversation if it was interesting and preferably not about sandwich fillings._

 

_He let out a whisper of a chuckle as Greg began to talk about cats and called one ‘Satan’s minion.’ It was a descriptive name for a cat and it made him think of the groundskeeper's cat at home, a tabby that would terrorize the rabbits and attack the washing line at home.  He sighed as he wondered how that cat was doing, he used to like that cat. He had no idea if that cat was even alive, he had not been at home for months. He let out a final sigh before ending the conversation, instructing his texting partner to work on his essay. Talking to a stranger wasn’t going to get you anywhere, Mycroft thought to himself as he left for the afternoon coffee run. Being someone’s personal assistant and bringing them a cappuccino once in awhile, it wasn’t glamorous but it was going to take him to some places. He rolled his eyes but smiled slightly when Greg sent the last text message to him, despite the annoying text messages, it was nice to have someone to talk to._

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg realises that Mycroft might be right about his girlfriend. Mycroft has family problems and assists with online dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Implied use of drugs.

**Tuesday 24th August 2010.**

 

_ Mycroft  _

 

_.He had found it almost  amazing that Greg had still been intent on speaking to him. It was a surprise as he wasn’t that interesting and he had to admit that he hadn’t been the most pleasant to him in the first place. Yet despite his insults, Greg had continued to incessantly text him and his mundane text messages about his sandwich fillings and his girlfriend had started to become a part of Mycroft’s day. He began to expect the text messages, and he had even started to almost enjoy the mundane conversation about sandwiches.  _

 

_ It was almost pleasant to have someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t related to his work or it was his brother. Talking to a stranger was probably not the smartest thing that Mycroft had ever done, but he had done stupider things, he was involved in the drama society for several years and he had done rather questionable things in the past, where there was one instance involved him wearing a corset, but he refused to talk about that despite the video evidence that was there. He knew that the messages from Greg weren’t going to last, nothing in his life that brought him joy seemed to stay around for too long, he was the type of person who seemed to repeal joy away from himself. It was partly his own fault that it happened, he never let himself be happy or content with things. It was easier to be like that, less disappointment happened when a relationship ended or if something had gone wrong.  Besides, Greg didn’t need to be talking to a stranger on his phone. Greg seemed to have his life together, besides the cheating girlfriend and the loneliness that he had clearly was experiencing, which had made him text a stranger. Mycroft briefly wondered if he was lonely as well, as he was texting a stranger as well and it wasn’t normal behaviour. _

  
  
  


Greg

 

He had no idea why Mycroft was acting like this, he hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just being friendly and sending messages to him, and yet Mycroft was being a complete prick about it. Mycroft was the one who kept replying back to him, Mycroft could have ignored his text messages instead of replying to them, and yet Mycroft was acting like he was the one who was causing him grief. He wondered what was wrong with Mycroft, he was acting like one of those emo kids that Greg avoided at school. He had thought that he had started to make Mycroft warm up to him, he had been slightly less insulting to him in their last few conversations together and Mycroft had been slightly interested in his life. He was wrong though, Mycroft was being a right prick. No wonder why Mycroft was not a people person if he talked to people like that and got all moody if people were bothering him, no wonder why the bloke didn’t seem to have any friends. 

 

Greg moodily took a bite out of his egg and chive sandwich, so much for having an interesting lunch time conversation with Mycroft. He would have to study until his next class. He had no mates to go and speak to as they went to different unis or had jobs to go to, and he wasn’t in the mood to talk to Kate. Kate was still a bit moody with him despite the fact that he had bought her flowers and took her out for dinner to make up for forgetting their anniversary. She had been spending a lot of time with her friends lately, probably complaining about him to them.  He hadn’t much luck with people recently, perhaps there was something wrong with him? 

 

Greg sighed as another text message from his brother arrived. He had been getting text messages from Kyle a lot more recently, mostly around the topics of complaining about life at home and dad’s behaviour. He would have to visit home more often, someone had to keep an eye on the house and make sure that his mum and his brother weren’t getting too weighed down too much. Greg absent mindedly rubbed his arm where a large bruise had come about after his dad threw the tv remote at him after complaining that it wasn’t working. With each text message, he became more and more glad that he was in London.

  
  
  


_ Mycroft _

 

_ Mycroft sighed as he switched off his phone, he had ended it. It was better to do that than let someone get into his life. He didn’t have time for friends, he was too busy with his career and keeping an eye on his brother. He placed the phone in his desk drawer and sipped at the coffee that was his lunch, hopefully, this diet would work soon. Anthea, the girl who had just joined the office the month before, looked at him with a smile on her face before her eyes went back to her phone. He knew that talking to Greg wasn’t causing any harm, but it was easier to end a potential friendship now when he was in control instead of it dying out when someone got bored of him. Sherlock had been mocking him for talking to Greg, he had been reading the text messages that had been exchanged between the two of them. He knew that Sherlock was right, he was probably the most boring person on the planet, someone like Greg wouldn't be interested in him once they got to know him. Greg probably enjoyed the novelty of talking to a stranger. _

 

_ Anthea walked over to his desk with her phone in her hand. He was meant to go for a lunch meeting, ( The meeting where he was to act as a courier pigeon for his boss and the wife, they were talking about their mortgage of late,) thankfully that meeting had been cancelled when Gabrielle had decided to go shopping instead. She perched on his desk and moved her eyes away from her phone.  _

 

_ “You can do that thing where you know things about people from just looking at them?” She asked. _

 

_ Mycroft sighed and placed the cap on his pen. “ I can do deductions if that is what you are meaning?” _

 

_ A mobile phone was thrust into his face by Anthea. A picture of a young man on a motorcycle was on the phone screen. Mycroft looked at the picture for a moment with a look of confusion on his face. Mycroft could tell that he was a cheater, he smoked and his mum brought him that pair of trousers from a quick glance of that photo. “Why are you showing me this, Anthea? I am currently attempting to get some work done. “ _

 

_ “You’ve been doing nothing for the last hour and it’s lunch,” Anthea replied. She brushed her hair off her shoulder. “Can you do your deduction thing on him? Is he worth going on a date with or not? ” _

 

_ “‘The deduction thing,’” Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed. “There are other things that I ought to be doing. He is a cheater, and his mother buys his trousers. That motorcycle isn’t his.” _

_ “How can you tell that?” Anthea asked a look of surprise was on her face. She swiped the screen on her phone and another profile came up. “What about that one?” _

 

_ “You can tell by the way that he is sitting on the motorbike and you can tell by the way that he’s dressed.” Mycroft inspected the phone again, this time a picture of a short blonde man came up on the screen with the name ‘John.’ “He’s training to be a doctor, seems to have a family connection with the military. You can tell by the way that he is holding himself and the haircut. I would say that this father was in the military.  He would be more suitable for you than the first one.“ _

  
  


_ “That is incredible!” Anthea exclaimed, she put down her phone and started to look at him with a look of amazement in her eyes as if she had discovered something brilliant, reminding Mycroft of the first time his brother had seen a chemistry set.  _

 

_ “People don’t normally say that to me,” Mycroft replied, he tried to push away the blush that was rising to his cheeks. People didn’t normally compliment him, so far Anthea and Gregory had been the first people to do that. Anthea was the first to ever compliment him in person. He almost didn’t know how to react to that.  _

 

_ “What do people normally say to you?”  _

 

_ “Piss off.” Mycroft let out a breathless laugh that was echoed by a louder laugh from Anthea. “I tend to keep them to myself, people don’t always like them. They always act like it’s my own fault when they find out that they are being cheated on.” Mycroft sighed and pushed away from the memory of his last night in the family home. He didn’t know why there was such an argument, it was kinder to not leave his mother in the dark about father’s affair with the au pair. His mother’s ignorance and delusion about having a happy marriage was difficult to sit through. He had been doing it out of kindness, but they acted like it was his fault. He wasn't the one who left evidence of an affair in the car.  It is why he got cut off from the family money and he got asked to leave the family home. It is why he ended up going to London.  _

 

_ “Well I think that it is brilliant, I will have some use for you, Mr Holmes.” Anthea picked up her phone again before she moved over to her desk. She turned around and looked at him with a sly smile on her face. “I was thinking about going out for lunch, I was wondering if you would like to join me?” _

 

_ Mycroft knew that he would be a hypocrite if he agreed to go, especially after going on about how he didn't need any friends to Gregory. He guessed that lunch with a coworker was different than talking to a stranger and making friends, it was mostly professional even if he did help Anthea look for a date online. He did need to get out of the office anyway and he wasn’t doing anything better. Almost surprising himself, he nodded and slipped on his jacket. _

 

_ “What about the medical student? Are you going to ask him for a date?” Mycroft asked once he met Anthea at the door. _

 

_ “Medical students are too boring for me, thanks for your help though.” She smiled as she slipped her arm through his. “I think that this is the start of a wonderful friendship, Mycroft Holmes. I should take you to drinks one day, you might find me Mr Right with your deductions.” _

 

_ Mycroft didn't say anything in response, but for once he let himself experience a little bit of happiness.  _

  
  
  


Greg.

 

He didn’t want to go to the party, he had been forced to go by his flatmates. He knew that he shouldn't be partying, he had an assignment to go and work on.  He let out a sigh as he noticed Kate place her arm on Tommy’s shoulder and flick her hair the way that she did when he had asked her out for their first date. He frowned, maybe Mycroft was right. He had no idea about how he had managed to be right about that, he had only mentioned to Mycroft that his girlfriend was unhappy with him. Mycroft had to be a robot of some sorts No one could know something like that. 

 

He was half tempted to call the night quits, he wasn’t in the mood to party. Kyle had been texting him all evening, asking about coming to stay in London with him. He had guessed that dad had been drinking again and had pushed things too far this time. He hadn’t seen Kyle in weeks and when he did see his brother, his brother seemed to look miserable half of the time. Getting his brother to London would be a challenge, his brother was still in school and had another year until he was in university, and there was the cost of living in London that he would have to consider. He would also have to get a new flat, the flat that he was currently in could barely hold three people in it, he imagined that his brother wouldn’t be happy about sleeping on the sofa. He could take the sofa of course and give his brother the bedroom to give him some space, perhaps that could work until he got a new flat. He would have to talk to his mum about it as well. Greg debated about the matter for a moment, he didn’t want to leave mum alone in the house with his dad, perhaps he could move back home and just commute to London. There was a lot to think about, and thinking about it at a party was probably not the best thing.

 

A text from Mycroft pulled him out of his thoughts. It was a surprise, he had not expected Mycroft to text him again after their conversation this afternoon. He had wondered if he had done something to put Mycroft off speaking to him or if Mycroft was just being moody and having a bad day. What was even more of a surprise was the fact that Mycroft was willing to have try and have a conversation with him, it was a complete change from the messages that were exchanged in the morning. 

 

It was clear that Mycroft was needing someone to talk to, the whole dramatic messages that Mycroft sent about needing friends made it extremely clear that he did need someone to talk to. It was complete denial about the whole situation. He felt bad for the guy, he had barely known Mycroft, but he would imagine that with a mind like this, he would go crazy if he had no one to talk to.  He was more than glad when Mycroft offered to talk to him occasionally in the moments of madness in his life. It was something. There was something almost therapeutic about talking to a stranger about his life. It wasn’t like Mycroft could track him and reveal off of his secrets, for all he knew, Mycroft was probably someone who lived in his mother’s basement on the other side of the country. He had to be, especially with a name like that. It was probably his World Of Warcraft user name or the name of his character as he played Dungeons And Dragons. He remembered Molly once mentioning that she had a friend called Sherlock, perhaps they were family of some sorts with names like that?  With unfortunate names like that, they would have to have the same cruel parents. Greg would have to ask about that sometime in the future. 

* * *

  
  


**Wednesday**

  
  


_ Mycroft  _

 

_ The word ‘freak,’ seemed to bother him the most. The word had always been more hurtful than towards any of the insults that had been placed on him over the years. It seemed to stay around with him with a lasting sting.  He knew that Greg was trying not to be insulting but it didn’t stop the sting of the word as he had read it. More than he had hated being called a ‘freak,’ he had hated it when the name was placed on his brother. Sherlock had always been more sensitive about getting called names, Mycroft could remember the phone call that he had received from Sherlock on his first day of  secondary school, his brother had spoken to him about his day and how he had been called that name among many others and had been attacked by some older pupils after making some deductions. Mycroft could remember the phone call and he could remember the hurt underlying tone that his brother had when he recalled his story and how the name ‘Freak,’ that had been branded onto him, Sherlock acted like it had bothered him, Mycroft knew that it was an act. It had broken Mycroft’s heart, at his lack of ability to do something. Thankfully Molly Hooper, a shy girl who was around Sherlock’s age, but in the year above him at school due to advancing quickly in her studies, had taken Sherlock under her wing. She was the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock ever had, she managed to stop some of the insults that were thrown at his brother. Mycroft had always admired her, she was intelligent and a rather cheerful presence that was welcomed at times. She helped to cultivate Sherlock’s interest in science, her uncle owned a butcher’s shop and a farm which gave his brother access for things to dissect and experiment on.  _

 

_ Sherlock had not come home or to the flat that evening. Sherlock had been a concern of late. His brother had been struggling in school and seemed to have made it a goal to get expelled from as many schools as he could before he had turned eighteen. He was bored, Mycroft couldn’t blame him. State schools didn’t have the same high level of intensity towards learning than a private establishment such as Eton or Harrow. Their parents had tried Sherlock at a boarding school but he had struggled to be away from home and suffered distress when he was away from the family for too long. He had seemed to have grown out of that sentiment recently, he barely spoke to any of the family these days apart from Mycroft. Mycroft had always believed that it was the fact that he had the car and a flat in London made him desirable for Sherlock to speak to him.  _

 

_ The phone call from his mother had been a surprise, he had not received a phone call from her in months. She was distressed and was asking where Sherlock was. Apparently, his brother had been expelled from school in the afternoon and he had not returned home, and he had not gone over to Mycroft’s flat. London was a dangerous location at times, and his brother had seemed to fall into the path of demons on a regular basis. Drugs had been the thing to tempt him into hell. Sherlock was only going to go into a downwards spiral and end up doing nothing with his life, or be dead, if he had continued with the path that he was going on.  _

 

_ Mycroft tried to call his brother several times and received no information. He had managed to get contact of Sherlock, but his brother seemed to be more occupied with talking to Greg rather than giving him information about his whereabouts. Mycroft let out a sigh of stress and tugged at his hair hard, it the most of a reaction that he would give himself right now. There was time for him to be emotional over this. He switched on his laptop and tried to get the location of Sherlock’s phone. _

 

_ Mycroft sighed and tugged his hair once more once he had found the location of his brother's phone. Why couldn’t his brother find a nice location to go and get high in? didn't approve of his brother’s new habit that he had developed, but he wished that it was in a location which was regarded as one of the more dangerous areas of London.  With a final sigh, Mycroft picked up his car keys and hoped that Sherlock would at least cooperate with him to a certain extent, he looked in the cupboard and pulled out the good biscuits, he would be needing them.  _

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Mycroft have to deal with problems with their brothers. Mycroft feels like a diary that is possed by an evil wizard.

   **Friday the 27th of August.**

 

_Mycroft_

 

_The cheap black coffee was the only thing that was keeping him awake, it tasted bitter as he took a sip out of it. Mycroft checked his watch, it was almost midnight, in fifteen minutes it would be three days since he had last slept. He had barely left his brother’s bedside, only moving when the nurses sent him out or forced him to go to the canteen to eat a sandwich several times a day. Even though the doctors insisted that his brother was fine and it would be fine for Mycroft to go and leave the hospital for a few hours to get some sleep, but Mycroft couldn’t allow himself to leave, he had even taken some time off work for his. Brother. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t appreciate it though, in his few moments of being awake, Sherlock had told him to ‘piss off,’ among other kind words._

_His parents hadn’t arrived at the hospital yet. They were currently in Australia for 'business,' whatever that meant. Getting in contact with them had been a challenge, partly because of the time difference and it had taken Mycroft more courage than he would like to admit to even pick up the phone. He hadn't spoken to his parents in over six months. He had gotten a few emails over the months, of course, they were full of demands and insults, without the pleasantries.  The emails were only about Sherlock, of course. Mostly about his whereabouts and if his brother was staying in his flat for the weekend. Occasionally he would get an email insulting his 'common flat,' and how he was a bad influence for his brother. It was completely ridiculous, as he had always considered himself to be a good influence on his brother. He had been the one to make sure that Sherlock was attending school, even if he did decide to leave after the first class as he got bored or had been sent out. At least he was trying to help him to get into university and was trying to convince the school board that his brother should sit his A-levels early as he was clearly doing nothing productive with his time spent at school and he had hated being there.  He didn't see his parents trying to make the effort for Sherlock, their only response was to send him away to a boarding school in another country so they didn't have to deal with him._

_Mycroft sighed as he got the email notifying that his parents would be arriving at the hospital by the morning.  It wasn't from his parents, of course, instead, it was from his father's PA. He didn't even know why he felt the wretch of disappointment when the email arrived, it wasn't like his parents were going to phone him. If it was he who was in the hospital bed, they'd probably not even bother to visit, they might get the PA to send an email asking about his wellbeing if he was lucky. The urge for a cigarette was strong at this moment of time, dealing with his parents always made him want to smoke. He would have to make do with another cup of coffee, perhaps he would grab a chocolate bar from the vending machine nearby. The diet was allowed to go out of the window in times like these._

_He sighed as he recieved a text._

_Microsoft? His name wasn't that difficult to say. He rolled his eyes as the several messages came through, frowning at the one that called him 'dude.' What common language. Clearly, Gregory was intoxicated, why else would he be wanting to talk to him on a Friday night. He really wasn't in the mood for this. Dealing with his brother had been more of a concern, rather than dealing with stupid text messages.  He shoved his phone into the pocket and shoved a few coins into the vending machine for a Mars Bar. Sherlock had been craving them in between nausea from the withdrawal and the medication he had been given. He got one for himself as well. He would need it. He looked a the leaflets in his hand  for addiction therapy and one that was labelled, ' dealing with drug abuse in the family.'  He threw that one in the bin. His brother didn't have a problem, it was just a one-off, he didn't need to deal with it emotionally. Hopefully, he and his brother could just delete this moment and then go on with their lives. That is how they lived their life.  He did, unfortunately, have to talk to Sherlock about therapy. The nurse made him promise to do it as she passed him a paper cup of soup and some toast for Sherlock. It was probably better that he did it, it would save another nurse from crying. The National Health Service was overworked already without having to deal with Sherlock Holmes._

* * *

 

Greg

 Between dealing with what was going on at home and with his girlfriend, it had become difficult to study. Probably deciding to study at a party wasn't his best idea, he had no other choice. Kate had forced him to go to the party. He didn't want to go, but someone needed to keep an eye on Kate and make sure that she got home alright, Kate didn't do too well after she had been drinking. He would hate something to happen to her even if she did drive him crazy at times. 

Greg sighed as he tried to highlight the notes in his textbook as he tried to force himself to focus on the book. The urge for a Jack and Coke was strong. This essay was needing to get done and it was going to be more important than the need to drink. Kate was dancing around in the room...well if you could call it dancing. It was more like flailing her arms around like a demented chicken, she managed to get away with it somehow. Most people in the room had their eyes on her, who wouldn't? Kate was stunning, even though Kate was flirting with other guys and dancing around with several of them, she would blow kisses over to him. That had to mean something. He had no idea what Mycroft was talking about, Kate wouldn't be cheating on him. What did Mycroft know? 

Kate stalked up to him like a tiger and pulled him to the floor despite his protests. She quickly showed him around her friends, making him feel like a trophy wife. Greg quickly shrugged a greeting to them before turning to his phone. He really didn't want to be here, being introduced to a bunch of strangers who were in various stages of drunkenness was something that he wasn't in the mood for. Hopefully, Kate would get bored and decide to leave, it didn't seem that it would be anytime soon, she was occupied with a story about a football victory that Tommy was boasting about. Even though he had just met him, Greg decided that he didn't like Tommy, he seemed too cocky and full of himself. The fact that he had his arm wrapped around her made Greg instantly dislike him. He quickly made his excuse to go back to his books. It was about midnight, the party only had about two hours to go at the most, people were alreadys starting to leave. 

"What is your problem?" Kate asked him in a low voice, once she had approached the quiet corner that he found for himself by the coats. "This party is meant to be a good time and you are spoiling it."

Greg recapped his highlighter with a sigh. "I've got an essay, Kate," Greg sighed. "Sorry if I am not in the mood to party right now. I agreed to go out when you said it was going to be a quiet night out to the pub and then to your flat."

"It is a house party, it is a quiet night in. It is not like it is a club," Kate rolled her eyes and flicked her long hair over her shoulder. "I don't know what is your problem, you've not even had a drink and you are studying. My friends are wondering why I am with such a 'dork' right now."

The little vein was poking out from her forehead. It was always the indicator that a fight was going to start, it really wasn't worth arguing back to Kate. He had enough stress with what was going on at home. He was half tempted to ask Kate what her problem was, as she had been giving him the silent treatment and now had been complaining about everything that he did. When she spoke to him, it was more like she was talking at him, instead of talking to him. 

"I'm sorry," Greg sighed. "I'm just tired. You go and talk to your friends and have fun, I'll be here when you are wanting to go." 

Kate frowned at him before looking at her friends. "Fine, you are staying off that phone though." She held out her hand expectantly and Greg reluctantly handed over the phone to her.  He sighed, there goes the plans of annoying Mycroft that evening. It really wasn't worth the argument, it was better to keep Kate happy. "I swear that you are spending more time on that phone than what you are with me. " 

"Probably because you've been giving me the silent treatment all week," Greg mumbled under his breath. Kate didn't seem to notice, or she had chosen not to notice.  She pressed a kiss to his cheek which smelt of cheap red wine before going back to her group of friends. Greg sighed in relief at the lack of an argument. He opened up the textbook and began to read through it again, he was half tempted to see if he could lock himself a large cupboard or wardrobe, it would make it easier to study and he was less likely to get bothered by his girlfriend or her friends. Regardless of the situation here, it was still preferable to being at home. The whole weekend at home had been...tense, to say. He was thankful that it would be another week until he was needing to go back and visit. Hopefully, something would prevent the visit, perhaps the earth would finally decide to pack in and just decide to get burned by the sun, it would definitely save him from sitting through a tense family Sunday dinner. Not even the Yorkshire puddings dripping with gravy and the treacle sponge was worth the dragging and deafening silence. 

After another ten minutes of attempting to study, Greg decided to give up. It had been too difficult to focus and he had been reading the same paragraph at least five times. There was no point in attempting to study when he was at a party. He would wake up early in the morning and get some done before his brother came over to his flat. He wondered what Mycroft was doing, he doubted that Mycroft would be at a party, he didn't seem like the type of bloke to do things like this. He seemed to be the boring, stay at home sort. The most exciting thing that Mycroft was probably drinking was Earl Grey, perhaps with a bit of lemon in there as well, he did seem like a posh bloke with a name like that. 

"Greg, your mate Microsoft is boring." Anderson sighed as he leaned against Greg's shoulder, swaying slightly. "Who is Microsoft anyway? I can't remember you talking about someone with a name like that, I would have remembered."

Greg let out a large sigh as he tried to fish out the phone from his friend's hand. How was he going to explain about Mycroft? It was really strange that he was talking to a stranger. Mycroft had been a secret that he liked to keep to himself, it was almost like having a diary that responded to him. He was able to pour his thoughts and observations about the world or his sandwich fillings to Mycroft and he would get a response, (often very sarcastic,) one back. He almost hoped that he would be the same for Mycroft, the bloke seemed like he needed someone to talk to.  

"Who is Microsoft, Greg?" Anderson repeated again. "Fancy calling someone that, it is almost cruel." 

"My French penpal..." Greg replied finally snatching the phone away. He scrolled through the messages and frowned as Mycroft's replies were not too positive and he sounded more bothered than normal at receiving a text message. He would have to go and apologise for that, perhaps Mycroft was having an off day. "I've been wanting to improve my French, got a big holiday coming up," Greg lied through his teeth. 

"The messages are in English though," Anderson replied, a questioning look was painted on his features. The look of confusion quickly melted away when he saw Sally Donovan chatting away with some of her friends by the kitchen. "Reckon that Sally would fancy a drink? You can speak French to her and it will make me look good. Just say good things about me though, perhaps mention that I am doing a forensics degree and I can speak German. That stuff makes me look good."

"My French isn't good," Greg quickly said, " It is the reason that I have a French penpal.You go and tell her about the lizard, she seems like the type of girl who'd be interested in them." It was a complete lie but it had to be something to get his mate from annoying him about his text messages, hopefully, Anderson would forget it by the morning. Mycroft being his French penpal seemed to believable, no one would question it. If people started asking questions or started to doubt the lie about the French penpal, he would take a French night class and book a holiday. It was perfect, it was the easiest way to be able to talk to Mycroft.

"Wish me luck," Anderson said as he swaggered off in the direction of the kitchen. Greg only shook his head, that poor bloke would need all of the luck that he could get.  

 

* * *

 

_Mycroft_

_It was almost surprising how Greg seemed to enjoy talking to him. It was even more surprising how Greg apparently read the previous messages that they had exchanged. Mycroft would be lying if he said that he didn't have a glimpse at the old messages. Despite the fact that the would claim annoyance from Greg's messages about sandwich fillings, they had brought some joy in his life and if he had dared to say, they had even amused him. Even though he had been bothered by the text messages, they had become a welcome distraction. It had been difficult to summon the courage to go back into his brother's room. He had only meant to leave the room for a few minutes to get another coffee, but it had been twenty minutes. Sherlock was only sleeping it wasn't like he was getting up to any more mischief._

_Mycroft sat on an uncomfortable hospital chair that was next to the vending machine. He let out a large sigh and rubbed a hand over his face, it had been difficult to keep his composure in the hospital. Sherlock didn't need him to be emotional right now, Sherlock needed him to be calm and collected. It was only when he was alone in the empty hospital corridors that Mycroft allowed himself to remove the mask that he had placed for a brief moment. It had almost been tempting to maybe attempt to get some sleep. He would have to sleep eventually, he had to go to work in the morning. It was better to make himself scarce when his parents would eventually arrive. He couldn't deal with his parents right now, if he caused a commotion, he wouldn't be allowed to visit, Sherlock. Even though Sherlock kept complaining about his presence, Mycroft knew that Sherlock appreciated him being there. The medical staff appreciated it as well due to the fact that he was able to prevent Sherlock from kicking off as much and he was able to get him to behave for a few minutes. He had only been successful due to the fact that he had been bribing Sherlock with Mars Bars and chips, perhaps he would bring his brother's violin as a further incentive for good behaviour._

_Greg lived in London, that was surprising. He had almost expected Greg to live somewhere else in Britain, it had made the whole concept of talking to a stranger a lot easier to cope with. There wasn't the chance that he had encountered Greg in the city, but knowing that Greg lived in London made things seem a lot more real even if he didn't know what Greg looked like and that he had barely known anything apart from this enjoyment of egg sandwiches.  The countless messages about what Greg was having for lunch among other pointless topics had been the only things that were keeping him sane in the last few days. He wouldn't tell Greg that though, he didn't want to get his ego up too much and it might lead to Greg pestering him even more. It wouldn't be a completely terrible thing though._

_Mycroft frowned as he took a bite out of his Mars Bar as he read the text messages. Greg was an ear, or in this case, a set of eyes, that he could pour his concerns to.  He had been the same for Greg, he had started to feel like a diary that could respond to Greg's mindless thoughts. It made him feel like the diary in the second Harry Potter novel that had been possessed by a dark wizard. In the last few weeks that they had been communicating with another, he had barely told Greg anything, while he knew pointless information about Greg such as the type of sandwich he liked the most and what football team he had supported. He hadn't really passed any information about himself onto Greg, perhaps he was needing to do so, it was how friendships were formed. Well, that is what he read in the guides in making friends when he was younger and he actually cared about making friends. He did like the fact that Greg seemed to be interested in his thoughts about the world or he was polite enough to pretend. It was more than what most people did, normally he would be told to 'piss off.'_

_Mycroft let out a burst of laughter at the message that Greg had sent, asking if anyone in the Holmes' family had a normal name. It was difficult to define what was a 'normal' name in the family. Despite the fact that he had found some of Greg's messages pointless, they did usually make him laugh. Greg had the ability to make him laugh, not many people did. It was a reason to keep Greg around._

* * *

_Mycroft had become aware of the crick in his neck when he had woken up. He wasn't aware that he had fallen asleep by his brother's bedside, he had been attempting to stay awake through the night with a crossword puzzle book he had found in the gift shop. Mycroft quickly removed his hand from Sherlock's almost feeling embarrassed with the action. He wasn't sure if the act was meant to be a source of comfort for his brother or it was for himself as well. He would hate to see Sherlock's reaction to such a sentimental act._    

_Mycroft began to go through his phone and he frowned when there were no messages from Greg, he had been hoping to have at least one to cheer him up. Instead, there was a message from this parent's secretary informing him that his parents would be at the hospital within the next half-hour. Mycroft let out a sigh, he would have to leave the hospital, it wasn't worth the argument which would soon take place with his parents' arrival and it wasn't fair to disturb the patients and the hospital staff with the shouting march which would take place. It was definitely better to leave now and deal with the fallout later, hopefully he would get a voice mail and he would be able to delete it._

_The leaflet in his pocket felt heavy, he knew that he would have to talk to his brother about going to treatment or therapy. There was the option of rehab, but that seemed to be too extreme. He couldn't let his brother go into a place like that, it wasn't an addiction that his brother had...it was a habit. It was a conversation that he knew which would be awkward and complicated for the two of them to have. It had to be done though if he wasn't the initiate the conversation about the matter and help his brother, no one was probably going to do it. He couldn't see his parents getting Sherlock treatment in order to help him, they would have him sent away under the guise of some volunteering work in order to protect their reputation among their fellow socialities._

_"You are still here, Fatty?" Sherlock croaked, bringing Mycroft's eyes away from his phone. "Thought that you would have buggered off now," Sherlock coughed, immediately Mycroft passed him a glass of water. Sherlock downed the glass and drained the second glass once it had been filled up. "Was there nothing good on the television?"_

_"What?" Mycroft asked.  He raised an eyebrow and took another sip of the cold coffee that he had neglected and tried to hide wince of disgust as it hit his taste buds. He quickly filled up his own glass of water in the attempt to remove the curdled bitter taste from his mouth."Do you think that I would go to a hospital to watch someone for entertainment? I do have better things to be doing with my time."_

_"Why else would you be here?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow. "I swear that this is the most time you've spent with me in years. You only seem to be intrested in me when I'm on my deathbed. I do think that you will enjoy being the chief mourner at my funeral. "_

_"There is no need to exaggerate, brother," Mycroft replied quickly, "it isn't like you've accommodated my sofa when you feel bored at home. You are like the flatmate that I had never agreed to have."_

_"So when are you going to piss off, Mycroft? It was charming that you stayed for the first day but this is getting ridiculous, you must be getting bored by now."_

_Mycroft looked up from his phone and shot his brother a poisonous glare. "Do you think that I wanted to be here?" Mycroft said in a low hiss, he had wanted to shout and scream at this moment of time but he knew that there would be no point in doing so, it would only disturb the other patients. "I had to go and take off time of my work for you. I had to call our parents because of you. I had to put my life on pause for you.  Do you think that I wanted to find you in an alley? You could have chocked on your own vomit if I wasn't there to find you. "_

_"Well at least being dead would have its advantages, means that I wouldn't have to deal with our parents," Sherlock said with a ghost of a smile on his pale features, "I rather have you deal with them than me."_

_The tense air between them managed to break for a moment, despite the fact that it was a serious moment, Mycroft couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock soon followed in his own pearls of laughter. It was probably wrong to laugh but for a moment Mycroft didn't care, it had taken away the tension that had present in the hospital room in the last three days._

_Mycroft wiped his eyes and ruffled his brother's hair like what he used to do before he had gone to university, it never really messed up Sherlock's hair it tidied it up to an extent. To his surprise, Sherlock didn't seem to protest at this action. "I am still incredibly annoyed with you right now and we will be having a long discussion about this when we go home," Mycroft said, a tone of brotherly fondness  was in his voice, "I am glad that you are alright."_

_"You just want someone to help you face the painful family dinners," Sherlock replied with a chuckle, "I guess that you want me to keep you company in your flat and be the one to find your dead body in the flat instead of letting it rot. I'm still going to use it to experiment on."_

_"Just make sure it is a closed casket funeral, it is my only request," Mycroft replied, "perhaps go and cremate me and you can keep the ashes on the fireplace, like what cook does with his dead dogs."_

_"You just want to haunt me," Sherlock replied with a sigh. "When are you going?"_

_Mycroft wasn't sure if it was the light or it was partly due to his delusion from the lack of sleep, but he was sure that Sherlock almost looked disappointed. "How can you tell?" He asked._

_"Your eyes keep moving to check the clock for the time and you keep looking out of the window for a particular car, which I am assuming is our parent's car.  You  are also angled near the door for a quick getaway." Mycroft took pride in Sherlock's deductions, as always Sherlock was right for the most part. The long summers and the weekends that they had spent together, Mycroft had started to teach him the art of deduction through hours of people watching and deducing each other._

_"You've done well," Mycroft gave his brother a small smile before it had turned into a more serious look. "I don't want to cause a scene in the hospital, it is going to prevent me from being able to visit." Mycroft sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I am not abandoning you and I will be coming back to visit."  Mycroft forced a smile on his face, "You should be able to go out of the hospital in the next few days."_

_"But I have to go to counselling or therapy," Sherlock replied in a whisper of a voice, the look of joy that he had on his face only moments ago had disappeared from his pale face. "I am not needing to go to rehab. I am not a washed up celebrity who had turned into an  addict, I just made a mistake."_

_"Counselling will prevent you this turning into a regular habit, the NHS is under enough strain already,"  Mycroft replied with a sigh. "It will stop you from getting to the point where you feel so low that you feel like you have to take something. " Mycroft let out another sigh as he placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "I was going to talk about this with you when you got home."_

_"I don't think that our parent's want me home," Sherlock whispered, "I don't want to be there as well."_

_"Home, as in you are going to be staying with me," Mycroft said, "You might have to stay with our parents a bit longer until I get a flat that is bigger for the two of us."_

_Mycroft sighed as he noticed a familiar black car pull into the hospital car park. His parents would be in the hospital within the next ten minutes, if he wanted to avoid the confrontation that he had been dreading, he would have to leave now._

_"I am afraid that I am going to leave, our parents have arrived." Mycroft sighed, squeezing his brother's shoulder. "I will come up and visit you later,  I will go and bring some things for you."_

_" Wish me luck_ for _dealing with the beast," Sherlock gave him a small grin, "bring some chips when you come up, the food is simply awful here."_

_"Will do," Mycroft replied as he stood up. He picked up the crossword book that he was working on and picked up the Mars Bar that he had picked up for his brother earlier on. "Hopefully this will keep you busy, I want the rest of that book filled in by the time I go and visit. It might keep you out of trouble for at least ten minutes."_

_"I can't promise anything Mycroft," Sherlock called over as Mycroft just left the room, "I want extra salt and vinegar on the chips!"_

* * *

Greg 

 

(Sat 9.04 am) 

I'm staying over at your place, I'm on the train now.

 

(Sat 9.05 am) 

He's been drinking all night.

(Sat 9.10 am) 

Christ, are you doing alright, Kyle? 

(Sat 9.12 am) 

What about mum? Has he been going at mum? If he has, I am going to knock him around the block!

(Sat 9.15 am) 

Mum is fine, she's away with Linda on a mums weekend. She isn't back until Monday. 

(Sat 9.17 am)

Greg, nothing is going to happen if you do that. You won't be allowed into the police if you do things like that. 

(Sat 9.20 am) 

Greg, it is not like he hit me or anything...you know what he is like after a few drinks, he just starts ranting on about things. 

(Sat 9.24 am) 

What was he going on about this time? The Tories? The bin men. Emigrants? 

(Sat 9.30 am) 

Greg, I am not going to tell you this through a text message. 

(Sat 9.33 am) 

My roommate said it's fine for you to sleep over. You can have my room, I'll take the couch. There is a spare key on the top of the door frame, let yourself in. 

(Sat 9.34 am) 

Take as long as you need. 

(Sat 9.35 am) 

Thanks for everything. I'll try and get some money for rent. 

(Sat 9.38 am) 

Kyle, you are in school, you don't need to worry about it. I'll pay for your train ticket when you are needing to go back to school. 

(Sat 9.43 am)

Thanks, Greg. I really owe you one. 

* * *

 

Greg

Wanting to meet Mycroft was probably not the best idea that Greg ever had and he knew that he shouldn't be disappointed with the fact that Mycroft had refused to meet him. He knew that he shouldn't be meeting up with strangers even if he had been speaking to him for several weeks. It was like he knew that he knew Mycroft without actually knowing him. He had even started to think of Mycroft as a sort of friend. He had no idea what he would do if he actually met up with Mycroft, it would be nice to go to the pub with him, it was how he made all of his own friends.  Perhaps he would meet Mycroft one day in the future, it would be nice to have Mycroft as a proper mate, he could do with a proper mate at times. 

 

 


End file.
